


There is Thunder in Our Hearts

by Nighthaunting



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 12:18:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/867462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nighthaunting/pseuds/Nighthaunting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Giveaway Prize Fic for Yourou, using the prompt: <br/> Currently on the Isle of Thunder the Sin’dorei have made a base camp for the Horde forces; but stamina is not eternal and there must be times to rest even for the bravest of leaders and heroes. With the Sin’dorei leaders stationed out in Pandaria, how are they acclimating away from the safety and comfort of Silvermoon?<br/>As far as a pairing goes; my first choice would be to see something with Rommath x Aethas, but I’m not terribly picky and would love to see anything that you come up with if it includes Lor’themar, Halduron, Rommath, or Aethas Sunreaver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is Thunder in Our Hearts

He took it as a punishment, at first.

Being assigned to the Saurok pits was something that could only have been a punishment, in Aethas’ mind. But he went; he deserved it, really.

The smell was choking, but it distracted him from the chill of the rain and the bite of the wind and the ever-present rumble of thunder. Aethas was miserable, but he deserved it.

The few days of rest he was allowed at the Promontory were a balm and a fresh torment. The smell was gone, but there was nothing to distract him from the chill.

_the chill of the ice—you have failed your people—Jaina will see them all dead—this is your fault—your fault—your fault—your fault_

Aethas hadn’t slept well since the Purge, but he’s hardly slept at all since coming to the Isle. In Silvermoon at least it is warm, but here he is constantly surrounded by reminders; the chill, searching through the Magi for someone only to remember that they are not here but a prisoner in the Violet Hold.

When Rommath sends him to the Saurok pits he thinks he’s being punished, for a time. He is disabused of this notion the first time he is sent to aid the Grand Magister in the Court of Bones.

The Regent had been reluctant to send him, but all the other qualified Magi were busy elsewhere or exhausted in their tents. He had thought the tight set of Lor’themar’s mouth and the sharpness of his gaze had been distaste, that his Lordship didn’t trust he and Rommath to work together without fighting again. He is the only one available, and so he is sent.

When he had been told they were ‘mopping up a disrupted Mogu ritual’ he had thought they just needed to deactivate a circle or destroy some animate guardians. Seeing the bled-out Silver Covenant Scout spread in the center of the ritual circle is too much; he has to look elsewhere, he has to breathe.

_your people will die in the streets and you can do nothing—useless Aethas Sunreaver—you have failed—failedfailedfailed_

He can feel himself turning green as the world tilts around him. From the corner of his eye he sees Rommath, the Grand Magister’s face is impassive, the corpse is nothing to him.

Aethas understands that being sent to the Saurok pits wasn’t a punishment now, just as he understands the look the Regent had given him before he was sent to ‘help’ Rommath. He makes it back to camp in a daze before vomiting.

<3

Afterward he notices they are trying to be gentler with him. They’ve been careful of him the entire time they’ve been on the Isle, but now he notices.

Lor’themar is the most obvious; he asks Aethas how he feels, gently reminds him to eat, invites him to speak with him privately. The Regent is tired as well, Aethas knows, more tired than any of them. It makes him feel weak, that he should be in worse a state than a man who has been the bulwark and driving force of their entire nation for more than a decade. He isn’t Lor’themar, he knows, and on the heels of weakness comes a deep jealousy.

Halduron is nearly always at Za’tual, but when he is at the Promontory the same time as Aethas he is kind. He distracts Aethas, his bright personality and playfulness temporarily driving away any dark thoughts. Most of his attention is reserved for Lor’themar though, and as soon as he returns to his post Aethas feels guilt for his momentary happiness and jealousy of his friendship with the Regent.

Rommath is the most inscrutable. They had come to blows before, and the Grand Magister had made it clear countless times how much of a fool he thought Aethas was. _Is—Aethas is a fool—a fool who wouldn’t listen and trusted blindly and now his people suffer._ Rommath had warned him about the Kirin Tor, Rommath had fought tooth and nail against their re-entry to Dalaran, Rommath had come and rescued him. Rommath had also not taken the opportunity to remind him of his folly, to say ‘I told you so’ and rub his face in the disaster. Aethas had always looked up to Rommath, had always aspired to be as well-respected and brilliant. Meeting him and realizing how closed-off and bitter Rommath is was one of Aethas’ largest disappointments. Being constantly reminded of your youth and inexperience is worse when it’s your idol doing the reminding, Aethas had found, but now Rommath acted strangely towards him. He would almost call it pity, but knows that the Grand Magister has never had tolerance for it. A better word would be ‘consideration’, he thinks, but the two are so close he can hardly tell them apart.

<3

After a month of barely sleeping he finally breaks down.

Lor’themar had told him that if he ever needed to he could come to him, so Aethas goes. It is late, the constant rain has slowed to a miserable drizzle as he makes his way to the Regent’s tent, but Lor’themar is blessedly awake.

Standing just inside the tent-flap he feels like a child; his mask is off for once, and he wears the light clothes he had tried to sleep in. Lor’themar is in his bed reading, similarly in his sleep clothes. Aethas has never seen him in anything less than armour or formal-wear before, and the sight of the scars and tattoos he had never imagined is enough of a shock to send him fully inside.

Lor’themar glances at him but doesn’t say anything, merely shifting over and pulling the blanket aside. Aethas is so grateful he wants to cry; he crawls into bed beside his Regent and slowly falls asleep, lulled by the warmth and sound of another’s breathing.


End file.
